"I opine from the way you talk," he observed, "that you don't bank much on our chances for doing that!"
"Well, to begin with, Lanky, we've used two-thirds of our stock of fire-sticks up coming here, and long before we could make that crevice again we'd be groping in pitch darkness, also in danger of falling down one of the precipices we've been avoiding."
"Wow! that's tough luck I'd say, Frank! I've been so bent on finding that five-fingered cave I've let everything else slip out of my mind."
"And more than that," continued the other prospector, "I feel pretty certain we couldn't locate that crevice in a week of hunting!"
"Lost! Lost, like the babes in the wood!" groaned Lanky, in pretended dismay but some real anxiety.
"Well," Frank informed his chum, "here's our cave, just as I reckoned would be the case; so after a little look around we'll pick out the softest rock we can find and say good-bye to all our troubles for a time."
"I'm all to the good on the proposition," stated Lanky. "Some cave, believe me! With a low ceiling, too. No stalactites growing downward here, you notice."
"No. But clap your eyes on all those big bats hanging head downward from rough places in the roof. Must be hundreds, almost thousands of the ugly, winged, ratlike creatures. There, some are starting to whirl around now, seeing our light."
More and more of the bats swung in circles, both big and small. Lanky struck at them with what remained of his bunch of torches, and several times let out a screech of triumph when he made a good hit.